observing the unknown: parental descretion is advised (and other works merged)

Dance with me in the trees, dance with me under the moon.
Hold my hand and let go of your weight and dance into the air of no cares.
The air of beauty and love and colors. Colors coloring your body and mind. Colors coloring your hair into a peaceful blue sparkling sea.. The sea of passionate plant lovers. Beautiful music flowing... Innscence of life flowing into our lungs... Taking a deep breath of this beautiful beauty. Peaceful flowers from one given breath into the luxeries of the water. Let your spirit flow into mine.. Let us dance around some heated flames letting our hair fly around creating the wind. Closing your and mine eyes and seeping into peace.. Peace... peacefulness... dance with me... dance, dance, dance!

 

I want to lie ontop on some colorless water and just float breathing in some rainfilled smell of air. Lie there and let the water drench me and soak up my hair. Float while my mind is at peace. Feeling the colorless water with my shrivlled up, whitened hand, feeling the oxygenated water beneath it. Floating amongst the waves with my moisened body. The waves flowing in a slow rate. Slowly floating in a rythmic gesture. My light, unclothed body leaping above the waves. My eyes closed, my lips wet. Lying down upon a blanket of mineralized water... I'm going to take you to my wonderland. We are in a colorful prismed orb. Were floating within the orb. Tasting the colors with our soft lips of wonder. Our fingers taking time to feel the inside of the chrome orb. Our eyes close only for an instant then they open. A warm sensation blankets our bodies. Wings take form onto our backs. We fly through the orb into the sunset painted sky. We fly through colors, the colors painting our very bodies. Were flying.... It all comes back through my mind like an enormous amount of flashbacks. I'm lieing on some colorless water. My body unclothed floating... drifting off into reality.

 

Forget the flying. Stay floating. You have a knack for extending and embellishing sensual impressons. Write on!

 

And impressions too

 

Observing the Unknown
By Damaya
​

When I was in grade 11 English (i graduated now from high school) we (the whole class) had to go out and observe someone and write about them and write about what they are doing... So this is what I wrote. I got full marks on it too.
*parental descretion is advised*

Staring off into the distance is he. Gazing off so hushed and isolated from the rest of the world, so disconncted and his thoughts jumbling up his emotions and the language of his face. A man looking like he's in his 20's with a deep, black, minature afro. The wind brushing up againt his shirt making it wave in the wind like a flag in the sky. He has one earring of gold and it shines as it reflects off the sun. On the back of his neck lies a tattoo, a tattoo of a celtic heart of some kind.

He goes toward the edge of the peer and very softly flops out his rain stick. He grips his rain stick with a compact but tender hold and then lowers his aim towards the rippling waves. After releasing such fluids from his rain stick he grabs a budweiser.
He's drinking up his beer, his adams apple moving up and down with each gulp. His body contains of no shirt, only his nude tanned chest. The tan working it's way from his shouldersto the lower half of his chest. His pants working it's way off his lower part of his body and revealing his Cherokee, black boxers. His runners are soiled and havent visited the washer in a while. He pulls out a cancer stick taking a slow breath in, lips holding the cancer stick tenderly. The man has stirred up facial expressions upon his face, an expression of weightness and secrecy. His eyes, staring into the distance. He drinks up the last of his budweiser and walks off the peer and throws his cancer stick upon the ground and twists his foot on the bud, twisting it into the soil. After at least five minutes he comes walking back and perches himself on the railing of the peer with one foot resting on one part of the railing and his other foot on an elevated part of the railing. He then burps with a sudden force, withdrawing a good amount of air, the stench of budweiser filling the air.

 

The language you've used may be simplistic, but you gave a thouroughly detailed explanation. I envisaged this dude as if he was in front of me. I can't understand why you advised parental discretion, however, unless of course there's more sordid details to follow. If it was because his arse was hanging out and he burped, then I'm a little concerned. I walk around like that all the time.:&

 

haha sorry about that

 

I wasn;t sure what to put this one under:

So the topic is makeup.
You may not agree with my veiws on makeup and you don't have to because everyone has their own opinions and I'm pretty open-minded. Feel free to write your comments and what you think about this whole thing..
I think that it's people's choice if they want to wear makeup or not. I'm not saying it's completely bad and that you should enevr wear makeup because it's evil. haha. I'm not saying that at all. Personally, I find that make-up only tries to perfect someone.. I think that people usually use it to perfect themselves. I think that your naturalism is alot more beautiful then a bunch of artifical gunk that you don't even know what's in it going on your eyes and lips and stuff.. I usually find that I see people with makeup and it looks ok but soon as they arn't wearing makeup they look a lot more amazing and perhaps stunning. I think putting on makeup is sort of like putting on a mask, your driving people away from what you really look like and they can't judge really whether you look really truely beautiful if all they see is a load of make up on you... unless it's really natural makeup. I have this huge thing with cover up as well... I think that usually coverup just makes someone look like a porcelin doll and makes them look all pasty and too perfect... Perfection is kind of creepy... people copying movie stars or wnating to look all perfect and like a movie star. Then the makeup company getting a shit load of money from all the people buying the makeup... Don't get me wrong, i think that sure some makeup looks good on some people... I like really light makeup on people... Makeup just isn't really for me... I just don't feel the need to put it on and i don't see the point.

 

I've often thought of the modern world we live in as a commercial plutocratic hell. Rather than using one of Hieronymus Bosch's paintings of hell as an example, I would rather use as reference one of his other works: The Ship of Fools. For those unfamiliar, you can see it here:

www.artofeurope.com/ bosch/bos4.htm

The world is overcrowded with morons who just seek temporary satisfaction, but the boat as you can see is still. In fact, I'm under the imperssion that it's actually sinking ever so slowly. Notice the central focal point of the picture. A monk and a nun. Their hedonistic merriment is anything but the path of religious conviction that they have chosen to follow.

Where does all this fit in?

In those days, religion, or to warrant it a more specific term, christianity, played a key role in suppressing the masses needed to plough the land and fight each feudal monarch's wars. They shaped their thoughts and fed their fears with visions of damnation and oblivion.

That role has evolved to a new creauture in the world we live today, even more deadly than the hippocrisy of the church.

I am of course referring to the most lethal drug ever concocted by mankind: marketing.

In the case for makeup if we could traverse back in time, we will see that it has been significant to humans from the days we lived in caves. Cavepeople painted their faces for religious reasons, for hunting, for courtship.

Through the ages Celtic tribes, Navajoes, Incas, Ancient Egyptians, Romans and many others have used makeup as part of their culture. Remember William Wallace in the film Braveheart?

But in today's world where we're supposed to be better informed (haha hahaahahahahahahah) and educated (hahahahaahhaahhahahahahahah) it doesn't play (not in the west, at least) any major purpose serving either belief, war, or hunting (unless of course you count camouflage paint as make-up).

And this brings me back to The Ship of Fools. If all those fools had used that abandoned organ that resides within their heads to actually think where they were heading, rather than follow each other like lambs to the slaughter, then they wouldn't be in that fuzzy mess. Who's to say that a warm-blooded male will stop fancying women just because they're no longer wearing paint on their face? I sincerely doubt it, though the alchemists of marketing will tell us otherwise!) and since cosmetics no longer serve any other
purpose other than a self-centred one that dates back to caves, in the name of progress, I would not be sorry if it was all collected and stored away in the pages of history.

If you've managed to sit through all this diatribe, award youself an extra cookie with your coffee.

 

good thread

 

I agree with ya iscreamchocolate. Make-up is over rated. Natural Beauty is some much more real and freeing, it shows your imperfections which in turn shows your humanity which then shows your soul and femininity.

 

thanks for your comments

 

thank you

 

well I traveled for miles around my humid, dusty room... Looking through every crack of furnature... under my beloved bed... On the other side of the bed.. Underneith every dirty pile of laundry. The laundry looking as if they might grab me and pull me down with them! Looking like they are going to devour me into their lushes softened fabrics. I'm panting, panting with horror!!! oh where is my black spaggetti strap shirt!!! Oh no!! For I can't see the horizen. Oh where are you beloved one!?!? I've thougth about you many nights, hard to sleep... Hard to sleep knowing that your probably isolated from the rest of my room... Far from my being.

(to be continued until i find my shirt)

 

Hee Hee...that was cool...so it is possible to write about anything.

p.s. Good Luck on finding the black tank top.

 

haha yes it is possible... lol i'll need all the luck i can get haha

 

Looking at my being, my face... My face staring right back at me. I sometimes wonder if your real, I sometimes think you might not be. My eyes keep on staring, as if hypnotized. Colorless liquid falls down my reflection, making my face disoriented, as well as my own view of my mind. Drops of liquid keep falling. One eye is drooping, my lips all bubbly looking. The liquids form my body into a small, clear molecule. My physical body then turns into the same color as the liquid... Colorless. I'm falling, about to hit the ground... About to splash and become free, yet dead. Into my own puddle. The puddle, meaning all those other molecules making up me. I then flash back into reality, or is it reality? I'm facing my reflection again. All liquids have evaporated into the dusky air. Is this really me? Not disoriented... Yet my veiw of my mind is still different.

 

Gazing through the opened soul that lies unraveled, Looking for some hidden meaning in the most darkest darkness... Some kind of light. A layer of chromatism paints the soul with it's love, with it's mind. Lying deep between two mezmerizing hearts. So filled with many beating and presperating undiscovered secrets.. That lays within the eyes that it puts out. Which eyes are those you may ask? The eyes in which their are no lies, no secrets, yet no life. The eyes that lie in paintings, filled with mystery and unresolved issues?? It then gasps for air as if being held under a wave of emotion... Being then swirled and tossed about through red wine. It's getting closer and closer to the sound of the beating. closer.. closer.... It finds itself lying there in it's own pool of it's broken sharded life... It's life lieing there lifeless. It's gazing down through it's opened soul that lies unraveled.

 

I decided to let my old, depressed soul just die off... It was hanging there anyway by a little red ribbon of emotional poisons. Just hanging there, waiting to be cut off. I understand that my depressive soul will probably come back and won't be gone forever. But I needed to let it be free and fall from my being. It was carrying far too much emotional baggage. If it comes back, then it does. I just have to learn to accept it the way it is. Accept life the way it is. It's not the end of the world. I shall have a grave burried deep within my thought-provoking mind to bury my tortured/helpless soul. Make room for my new soul. My new soul filled with abstractation and hope. Filled with a long peaceful journey.

 

sweet ass!!! lol, no this is really beautiful, i write similiar , just not as good lol...your descriptiveness is wonderful...